The Essence of Love
by Lockea Stone
Summary: Glass Fleet oneshot. A continuation of the scene where Vetti drugs Michel. Vetti's insanity knows no bounds as he seeks his revenge, not even that of gender. Vetti/Michel. Spoilers for episode 14.


**The Essence of Love**

**Disclaimer:** Glass Fleet does not belong to me. I'm not quite sure who I need to credit for this amazingly complicated, deep, and exciting series, but they deserve all the credit. All I own is my demented brain, with which I have officially taken canon too far... in a very disturbing way.  
**Summary:** A continuation of the scenes in "Like Daybreak" (episode 14, I think) where Vetti drugs Michel. Vetti's insanity knows no bounds, not even that of gender. Vetti/Michel**  
Warnings:** If you know what scene I'm talking about, I'm sure you can guess. If you don't: Non-con, insanity, mentions/implications of slash, and semi-graphic het (male/female sex). Vetti's narrating the first part, hence the purple prose.**  
Author's Notes:** Vetti's gay. I'm sure of it. Yet, he's probably well aware of what rape can do to person's psyche (given his past, how can he not?), and that's the conclusion I drew from the scene. He's doing because he knows the power he can wield over Michel. And I also got the feeling that Michel is, despite her unusual upbringing, still a sheltered noblewoman with no rough and gritty knowledge of sex.  
Quotes taken from the English Dub. Any excuse to listen to Laura Bailey and Jason Liebrecht (I have to find more of this guy!!!). *Dreamy sigh*

* * *

"Despise me, as that's the essence of love."

Vetti grinned as the rebel in his arms struggled so hard to escape him, but could not. The drugs that coursed through Michel Volban's veins left him as helpless as a small child in Vetti's embrace. He could not escape the kiss that Vetti placed upon his lips, though try he did, until finally weakened from the drug his hands fell away.

"My, my, little Michel, if it's at all possible, you've grown even more lovely since I last held you like this." Vetti whispered to the little general, sinking to the ground with Michel in his arms. Carefully, he brushed the back of his hand against one of Michel's smooth, pale cheeks. Truly, Vetti knew, that this was a man to match himself in beauty. And Michel was so wonderfully innocent! His very manner screamed of one untouched by the vices of men.

Well, Vetti reasoned, he'd just have to change that. "Little Michel, I hardly knew you were such a lightweight! Perhaps I should have watered down the wine before I offered it to you." Vetti chuckled at his own joke, a smirk crossing his beautiful face. "Oh, but now I'm afraid you're drunk. Here, let me help you to my room."

With ease he lifted the unconscious man into his arms, surprised at how little Michel weighed. No matter. It made getting him back to Vetti's room all the easier. With everyone at the party, and Vetti having already created the perfect excuse—he had business to discuss with Michel, after all—no one interrupted him as he made his way back to his room. It wasn't far, and soon the grand double doors were locked behind him.

With careful reverence, Vetti placed the prone form of Michel on the bed, inspecting the other man's body with a calculating eye. He'd seen it before, but such magnificence deserved careful adoration and plentiful worship. Such as shame it was that no one had ever touched him in so intimate a way. And Michel really was splendidly magnificent, in a way that not even Rachel or Ralph could compare. Long, silky blond hair that flowed like water through Vetti's hand as he unbound the ribbon that tied it, large blue eyes which when awake could reflect the whole spectrum of human emotions, just by the way they flashed in the light. Pale, unmarred porcelain skin, smooth beneath his swordsman's searching hands. The shapely, undefined face and the pouty, full lips could have belonged just as easily on a woman or young boy. Really, how old is Michel? Vetti supposed he must be 22 or 23, and yet still just as beautiful as he was at seventeen, when they first crossed blades.

Carefully, with the same gentleness he used when seducing Ralph into his bed, Vetti removed Michel's boots and began to unbutton the front of Michel's uniform jacket, discarding it onto the bedside chair when he finished. Next he began on the white shirt underneath, kissing the pale skin as it was revealed to him. He stopped short as searching fingers found bandages beneath the clothing.

Was Michel injured? Frantically, Vetti removed the shirt, swearing to himself that if one of his men had laid a single hand on Michel in such a way as to injure him, then he would gladly take their life. No one but he could touch Michel!

With the shirt removed, the pants and leggings followed shortly thereafter and Vetti felt a frown creep across his face. The bandages and undergarments remained the only clothing Vetti had not divested 'him' of. Vetti was no stranger to sex—with both male and female partners—he knew the difference between genders. He knew what a man looked like, what a woman looked like, and even what particularly young boys looked like when they were in their most vulnerable state.

There was no mistaking it. Michel Volban was not a man, or even a boy, at all.

Vetti was unsure whether to be deeply amused or horrible angry at Michel's deceit. It had been this fragile little creature—a little _girl_?—who had nearly defeated him all those years ago? Or was this some imposter, using Michel's fame for her own gain? Vetti turned the prone body over and sighed as he saw the two distinctive scars that crossed Michel's back in the shape of a cross.

Yes, it seemed Vetti had been the one deceived all along. His little Michel was female. It lessened her appeal to him, but Vetti paid no mind. She still belonged to him, this little female doll who dared to defy him not once, but twice. Vetti wanted her to remember him, and remember him she would.

Tired of this little game of secrets, and eager for his own satisfaction, Vetti wasted no time in removing the rest of Michel's clothing, tearing the underwear away and the bindings from her chest so that two smooth and round breasts fell free from their confines. Vetti had no interest in breasts. He unbuttoned himself just enough to free his erection, kicked open Michel's legs, and drove himself in with one quick motion.

Beneath him, Michel cried out from her sleep in pain. Her eyelids fluttered open slightly, but she was too drugged to react in any other way, except to remain on her back like the doll he'd made her.

"My, little Michel, is this truly your first time? Don't worry, I'll show you how _good_ it can be." He kissed her cheek gently, moving to capture her sweet lips in his. "After all, your first time is something you will _never_ forget." He punctuates his words with movement, and Michel continues to whimper. Her limbs are moving, but it's frantic and weak enough the Vetti doesn't bother to do more than push her harder into the bed, obtaining greater depth with each thrust.

Michel is still more beautiful Rachel, in Vetti's mind, but she is not what Vetti wants. Still, she will be broken in the end, and no longer a threat. She'll always remember what happens to those who try to cross him. In the end, he will win out.

As he comes deep inside of her, Vetti knows that he's won this battle, and that his little Michel is just that—his little doll. He'll break her, because that's what children do with all their toys.

* * *

Michel awoke slowly, her head spinning and aching as though she'd drank too much liquor the night before. Things registered far too slowly in her brain for her own liking. The light of day drifting across her face, the feel of soft sheets against her skin… the chill air across her exposed breast… the pain deep inside of her that she didn't fully understand.

Suddenly everything became clear. She jerked awake and sat up quickly, wrapping the bed sheet around her and ignoring the sting between her legs caused by the movements. A quick glance about the room and her eyes fell on the form of Vetti, sitting calmly upon a chair, a glass of wine in his hands as he stares out the window, away from her.

"What the hell did you do to me?" She demands calmly of the man, her anger cold and white in her chest. She only becomes agitated after he ignores her "What did you do to me?!" Michel demands again, because at the moment she can't guess what it is he's done to leave her in so much pain.

She may be the general of the People's Liberation Front, but for all her grandeur and clever trickery, she's still a horribly sheltered noblewoman with almost no understanding of her own body.

"I have no use for you anymore. Get out of my sight."

His voice is calm as he speaks, shocking Michel with his utter disdain for her. No explanation, not that Michel expected anything less from this cruel, heartless man.

Everything in Michel goes numb at that, as her mind fully catches up and she remembers conversations she's had. Isabel, the leader of the women's corps, has often complained about aristocracy, and one conversation Michel remembers quite clearly.

"_These aristocrats have no respect for the lower classes. They'll take these common women, maids in their household even, to bed and rape them. For many girls, it's their first time with a man. Aristocrats think these girls don't have bodies that deserve their respect and consent. That these girls don't have bodies that need to be loved."_

_Michel didn't know what rape was, and she was too shy to ask Isabel or someone else, but she knew that it must be horrible, whatever this terrible act is._

Now Michel knows though. Michel knows because it's happened to her. Vetti has raped her.

Everything shatters inside of her at the realization. She can't stay here any longer. She can't look at him. She can't think, she can't feel, she can't breathe. Every cell in her body hurts now.

Michel flees from the room, the white bed sheet over her body nothing more than a mockery to what she's lost as she tries to fight against tears that fall from her eyes.

"_Despise me,"_ He had told her, _"as that's the essence of love."_

Worst of all, however, is that Michel blames herself.

* * *

Uhh… well… I didn't think I'd ever write something like this… it was… really hard to write. One thing I loved about GF is how it portrays it's mature situations (I mean, seriously, the show is deeply disturbing at times), like the aftermath of Michel's rape, which pretty much left me in tears. It's probably why it ended up being what I wrote about…


End file.
